tihxavy  of  trhe  theological  ^tmin<xvy 

PRINCETON  •  NEW  JERSEY 


PRESENTED  BY 

The  Estate   of 
James  Oscar  Boyd 

BSI4-SO 
.2^  .V79 


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FROM  THE  TRAVELER'S  NOTE- 
BOOK 


On« 


OCT  261948 


M IPALBTI 

WITMITK 
T¥lMTY=TMKi 


El.¥ 


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OAL  81 


CINCINNATI 


The^tandardPub]i5hiii|G)mpai^ 


Copyright,  1918 
The  Standard  Publishing  Company 


Four  — 


From  the  blooms  that  border  Biwa 

To  the  tombs  along  the  Nile; 
From  the  snows  along  the  Yukon 

To  the  Thames  in  Britain's  isle; 
From  the  ghats  along  the  Ganges 

To  the  brig  o'er  bonnie  Doon — 
We  have  traveled  far  together 

In  the  ships  of  Night  and  Noon. 
To  my  wife  who  journeyed  with  me 

To  the  wide  ends  of  the  earth, 
My  travel-chum,  my  de-luxe  pal, 

This  tale,  whate'er  its  worth. 

E.  E.  V. 


■Five 


Contents 

PAGE 

A  Souvenir  Seeker... 9 

II 
The  Fountain  of  David....  IS 

III 
Pilgrims  and  Shepherds..  22 

IV 
A  Personal  Poem 30 

V 

The  Valley  of  the  Shad- 
ow   39 

VI 

In  the  House  of  Hospital- 
ity    50 

VII 
The  Trail  of  Immortality  61 

—  Seven 


A  SOUVENIR  SEEKER 

T  was  Sabbath  morning  in 
the  Holy  City.  The  wor- 
shipers were  thronging- 
the  narrow  streets  of  the 
Jewish  quarter,  bound  for  the  syna- 
gogues. A  sight-seeing  tourist  and 
a  truth-seeking  traveler  pushed 
their  way  through  the  motley  crowd, 
passed  under  the  ancient  arch  of 
Zion  Gate,  and  stood  for  a  few 
minutes  with  uncovered  heads  at 
the  tomb  of  David,  without  the  city 
wall.  The  former  took  his  knife 
and  chipped  a  fragment  from  a 
stone  in  the  corner  of  the  historic 
sepulchre.     He  labeled  his  prize  and 

—  Nine 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

placed  it  in  his  bag  of  curios  to 
carry  home  as  a  memento  of  his 
pilgrimage  to  the  burial-place  of  the 
Psalmist.  The  chief  travel-aim  of 
this  globe-trotting  tourist  was  the 
crass  task  of  gathering  relics  from 
storied  shrines  throughout  the 
world. 

"I  fooled  him  that  time/'  he  said  as 
he  put  the  bag  in  one  of  his  roomy 
pockets.  "Think  of  a  piece  of  stone 
from  the  very  tomb  of  David!" 

"Whom  did  you  fool?"  asked  his 
companion — "David  ?" 

"No,  the  Turkish  guard,  whose 
Lack  was  turned  when  we  stood  over 
there  at  the  corner,"  replied  the 
tourist. 

The  two  passed  down  the  hillslope 
westward,  skirted  the  Field  of 
Blood,  came  out  upon  the  old  high- 
way just  south  of  Lower  Gihon,  and 
made  off  over  this  world-old  path- 

Ten  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

way  of  patriarchs  and  prophets,  in 
the  direction  of  Bethlehem.  One 
sought  for  a  footprint  of  some  great 
man  of  God  in  the  limestone  road- 
way, while  the  other  gazed  upon  the 
blue,  blossom-crested  hills  of  Judea, 
and  thought  of  the  imprint  of  the 
mighty  lives  that  had  moved  and 
wrought  along  this  selfsame  way, 
upon  the  history  and  literature  of 
the  world. 

A  journey  of  little  more  than  an 
hour  brought  them  to  the  rude  Mo- 
hammedan structure  that  covers  the 
cave  in  which  Rachel  has  slept  for 
some  four  thousand  years.  Another 
vandal-scar  was  left  on  a  sepulchre 
doorpost  and  one  more  curio  was 
added  to  the  tourist's  relic-bag. 

Resting  for  a  long  time  beneath 
a  gnarled  olive  hard  by,  the  men 
entered  into  earnest  conversation 
about  the  wonders  of  the  little  land 

—  Eleven 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

in  which  they  were  pilgrims,  the 
strange  stories  of  the  peoples  that 
had  come  and  gone  upon  it,  and  the 
influence  of  the  matchless  Book 
which  it  had  given  to  the  world. 

"Minding  each  other  of  some  sacred  spot, 
Minding  each  other  of  some  word  forgot; 
So  gathering  up  till  all  the  whispered  words 
Went  to  the  four  winds  like  a  flight  of  birds." 

Then  deep  silence  fell  in  the 
shadow  of  the  olive-tree,  and  the 
men  began  to  think,  each  after  the 
fashion  of  his  mind.  Neither  spoke 
to  the  other  for  many  minutes.  One 
wore  a  puzzled  look  as  he  thought 
of  the  difficulties  of  storing  his  col- 
lection of  souvenirs  so  as  to  cause 
no  comment  in  passing  the  customs, 
homeward  bound ;  but  withal,  he  con- 
gratulated himself  upon  the  many 
new  curios  he  had  added  during  his 
five  weeks  in  Palestine.  The  other 
dreamed  of  telling  the  world  of  the 

Twelve  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

new  inspiration  and  the  new  vision 
of  the  world-task  that  Holy  Land 
travel  had  brought  into  his  life. 

The  tourist  renewed  the  conver- 
sation by  remarking  that  he  would 
"never  be  satisfied"  unless  he  could 
get  hold  of  some  ''actual  and  au- 
thentic souvenir"  that  had  really 
been  touched  by  some  person  of 
''Biblical    fame." 

Bethlehem,  city  of  David,  birth- 
place of  the  Messiah,  stood  out  in 
clear,  white  beauty  not  far  to  the 
southward.  Fleeting  clouds  cast 
moving  shadows  of  brown  and  gray 
over  that  somber  pile,  the  Church 
of  the  Nativity.  Laughing  children 
and  fair-faced  women  passed  to  and 
fro  from  a  small  group  gathered 
about  a  sturdy  Greek  youth  who 
was  drawing  water  from  the  old 
well  in  the  open  space  before  the 
quiet  little  city. 

—  Thirteen 


IN  PALESTINE  WITH 

"There  is  Bethlehem,  the  city  of 
David,"  remarked  the  tourist.  "Do 
you  suppose  it  would  be  possible  to 
find  there  some  trinket  or  relic  that 
belonged  to  David  himself?" 

"David's  well  is  still  there,  and 
its  identity  has  never  been  ques- 
tioned by  scholarship,"  answered 
the  traveler.  "That  Greek  yonder 
is  drawing  water  from  the  well  this 
very  minute." 

"But  I  could  not  take  the  well 
home  in  my  pocket,"  rejoined  the 
other. 

"Let  us  be  going,"  said  the  trav- 
eler, "and  I  will  take  you  to  a  spot 
that  David  loved  even  more  than 
he  loved  Bethlehem;  and  there  we 
shall  surely  discover  for  you  some- 
thing that  David  really  left." 

Some  little  horseshoe  to  nail  o'er  the  door, 
Some  little  trinket  to  love  more  and  more, 
Some   little   relic  touched  by  some  great  hand, 
To  take  to  my  home  from  this  little  land. 
Fourteen  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 


II 

THE    FOUNTAIN    OF  DAVID 

IRADITION  locates  a  liv- 
ing fountain  some  six 
miles  from  Jerusalem,  less 
than  two  miles  northeast 
of  Bethlehem,  as  the  place  where 
David  watched  his  flock.  It  is 
called  the  "Fountain  of  David."  A 
beautiful  Hebrew  faith  has  clung 
to  this  as  the  setting  for  the  twen- 
ty-third Psalm.  Here,  says  legend 
that  is  almost  historical,  David 
wrote  his  best-known  song. 

Thither  the  traveler  who  had  vis- 
ited the  spot  many  times,  led  his 
companion.  Leaving  Rachel's  tomb, 
they   started   over   the   rugged   field 

—  Fifteen 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

in  an  easterly  direction.  The  olive 
iDeneath  which  they  had  rested, 
marked  their  nearest  approach  to 
Bethlehem.  They  soon  entered  a 
winding  sheep-path  which  trailed 
down  into  a  green  valley  literally 
carpeted  with  red  poppies,  some- 
times called  roses  of  Sharon,  and 
lilies  of  the  valley.  Wading  through 
this  flowered  field,  resplendent  in 
its  April  garb  of  red  and  green  and 
white,  the  pilgrims  climbed  a  steep 
liill,  the  brow  of  which  marked  the 
western  border  of  the  field  where 
the  tender  Ruth  gleaned  in  the  days 
of  Boaz. 

"Here,"  said  the  traveler,  "is  a 
place  fraught  with  many  holy  mem- 
ories of  the  things  of  sacred  story. 
We  are  between  the  city  of  David 
and  the  city  of  the  Great  King. 
Just  over  there,  near  the  ruin  of  that 
Crusaders'    Church  is   the   spot  en- 

.Sixteen  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

shrined  in  Christian  hearts  as  the 
traditional  site  where  the  shepherds 
heard  the  message  and  song  of 
the  angels  long  time  ago.  A  short 
distance  to  the  west  is  the  cave  of 
Adullam,  still  haunted  by  the  spirit 
of   David  and  his   four  hundred." 

But  the  tourist  had  been  promised 
something  that  David  had  left,  and 
was  therefore  in  no  mood  to  think 
seriously  of  the  wonder-scenes 
through  which  they  were  passing. 
He  longed  to  find  one  of  the  pebbles 
which  David  cast  at  Goliath,  or  a 
piece  of  his  shepherd's  crook,  or  a 
gem  from  his  royal  crown.  He 
thought  what  a  priceless  posses- 
sion would  be  his  if  he  could  but 
find  the  broken  spear  of  David,  the 
man  of  war. 

''Do  you  suppose,"  he  said  to  his 
friend,  "that  the  trading  tribes  of 
Palestine  have  any  jewelry  or  other 

2  —  Seventeen 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

precious  articles  dating  back  to  the 
days  of  David  and  Solomon?" 

"Collectors  of  antiques  have  made 
many  a  valuable  find  by  trading 
with  Arabs  and  the  wandering  Bed- 
awee  of  the  Holy  Land,"  the  trav- 
eler answered,  ''but  I  scarcely  think 
they  have  ever  traced  any  jewelry 
back  to  David's  crown  collection,  if, 
indeed,  he  ever  had  any." 

With  this  they  moved  on  east- 
ward over  an  undulating  field  which 
bore  evidences  of  an  outworn  fer- 
tility, but  which  was  now  littered 
with  stones  scattered  willy-nilly  al- 
most as  far  as  the  eye  could  see. 
It  had  the  appearance  of  a  small 
wilderness  of  shrubbery  and  stones. 
Now  and  then  a  stray  goat  jumped 
across  the  pathway,  and  in  the  dis- 
tance could  be  seen  three  or  four 
flocks  moving  eastward  ahead  of 
them.      They    were    following    their 

Eighteen  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

shepherds  in  obedience  to  the  weird, 
luring  call  which  could  be  distinctly 
heard  above  the  bleating  of  the 
sheep.  As  they  neared  the  slow- 
moving  flocks  the  tourist  tried  to 
imitate  the  shepherd-call,  only  to 
frighten  the  sheep  and  cause  them 
to  run  helter-skelter  to  the  shadow 
of  the  rods  of  the  protecting  shep- 
herds. 

Passing  the  flocks,  they  went  on 
until  the  stony  field  dipped  gently 
down  into  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
valleys  in  Palestine.  Wild  flowers 
were  growing  in  rich  and  profuse 
variegation,  larks  were  flitting  from 
shrub  to  shrub,  and  the  verdant  vale 
stretched  like  a  vast  velvet  rug  to- 
ward the  slope  of  the  hills  over- 
looking the  Dead  Sea.  Palestine  is 
a  country  of  entrancing  landscapes, 
but  from  the  Lake  of  God's  De- 
light   to    the    shores    of    the    Red 

—  Nineteen 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

Sea  no  more  bewitching  panorama 
greets  the  traveler's  eye.  The 
whole  scene  presents  the  aspect  of 
a  shallow  amphitheater. 

Knee-deep  in  wild  flowers,  the 
men  went  down  into  the  very 
heart  of  this  green  valley  until 
they  came  to  a  small  pool,  from 
the  bottom  of  which  bubbled  a  quiet 
but  living  fountain  of  clear,  cool 
water.  A  large  rock  a  few  yards 
from  the  fountain  furnished  an  easy 
and  natural  resting-place,  and  on 
this,  the  tourist  and  the  traveler  sat 
together. 

*This,"  said  the  traveler,  "is  the 
'Fountain  of  David.'  Here  he  led 
and  fed  his  flocks  and  dreamed. 
Here  we  shall  discover  something 
that  was  really  David's,  something 
that  he  really  left,  and  you  may 
take  it  home  with  you  as  a  most 
precious  keepsake." 

Twenty  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

With  staring,  wondering  eyes, 
the  tourist  sat  on  the  stone  beside 
the  still  waters  and  listened  while 
the  traveler  told  him  the  story  of 
the  most  beautiful  heritage  that 
David  left  to  posterity. 

Only  a  word  that  hangs  starlike, 
Only  a  song  that  sings  birdlike. 
Yet  that  word  with  its  light 
And  that  song  in  the  night 
Are  still  speaking  and  singing, 
And  through  centuries  bringing 
Hope,  and  the  strength  to  do  right. 


Twenty-one 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 


III 

PILGRIMS  AND    SHEPHERDS 

S  nearly  as  possible,  the 
writer  will  give  from 
memory  the  substance  of 
the  tender  story  of  the 
world-traveler  as  he  sat  in  God's 
great  out-of-doors  beside  the  ''Foun- 
tain of  David/'  The  coming  of  the 
shepherds,  the  beauty  of  the  flow- 
ered landscape,  the  holy  memories 
of  the  time  of  David,  the  bright 
sunshine  of  the  glorious  April  day, 
and  the  surprised  bewilderment  of 
the  tourist,  all  combined  to  make  it 
a  never-to-be-forgotten  experience. 
"Three  thousand  years  ago  a 
young  shepherd  led  his  flock  in  the 

Twenty-two  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

midst  of  these  pleasant  places,  just 
as  we  have  seen  the  shepherds  lead- 
ing their  flocks  toward  the  green 
fields  to-day.  It  is  not  ijnprobable 
that  he  was  seated  on  this  very 
stone  when  the  mystic  messenger 
called  'inspiration,'  known  only  to 
poets  and  dreamers,  came  into  his 
wistful,  trustful  soul  and  the  world's 
first  immortal  poem  was  breathed 
upon  the  flower-scented  air.  Or, 
perhaps  this  stone  seat  was  his 
table  as  he  wrote  in  pure  Hebrew, 
past  all  forgetfulness,  the  song 
which  alone  would  have  made  him 
famous. 

'This  flowered  valley  is  greater 
tlian  the  battlefield  on  which  David 
slew  Goliath  of  the  Philistines.  The 
achievements  of  David,  the  man  of 
war,  are  as  nothing  compared  with 
David,  the  author  of  the  twenty- 
third   Psalm.      David   the   singer   is 

—  Twenty-three 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

more  powerful  than  David  the  king. 
The  song  is  more  potent  than  the 
scepter.  To  write  an  immortal  poem 
is  greater  than  to  conquer  in  mortal 
combat.  David's  pen  was  mightier 
than  his  sword." 

The  traveler  lifted  his  eyes  west- 
ward, and  stopped  speaking  as  he 
saw  one  of  the  shepherds  com- 
ing down  into  the  vale  with  his 
flock. 

''Here,"  he  said,  "we  shall  see 
enacted  before  our  very  eyes  just 
such  a  pastoral  scene  as  the  one  that 
gave  birth  to  David's  song." 

As  the  shepherd  drew  nearer, 
the  men  observed  that  he  was  a 
tall,  handsome  fellow  still  in  his 
minority,  with  facial  characteristics 
decidedly  Jewish.  The  traveler 
addressed  him  in  Hebrew,  and 
received  a  most  courteous  salaam 
in  return. 

Twenty-four  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

"How  is  it  that  you,  being  a 
Jew;  lead  your  flock  hither  on  the 
Sabbath?"    queried    the    traveler. 

''My  father  is  a  Christian  teacher 
in  the  city  of  David/'  he  replied, 
"and  the  Messiah  has  restored  the 
kingdom  of  David  in  our  house. 
Now  I  worship  God  every  day." 

"Do  you  live  in  Bethlehem,  then?" 
inquired  the  tourist. 

"Yes,"  said  the  shepherd,  "and  I 
have  kept  my  father's  flock  in  these 
fields  for  five  days  past,  but  now 
I  have  brought  them  for  a  little 
rest  and  quiet  before  starting  back 
to  the  fold  this  mid-afternoon." 

Then  the  young  shepherd  went 
to  the  other  side  of  the  fountain 
and  called  to  his  sheep.  Immediate- 
ly they  ceased  grazing,  and,  ap- 
proaching the  edge  of  the  pool,  they 
lay  down  one  by  one,  after  drink- 
ing of  the  living  waters. 

—  Twenty-five 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

When  the  flock  had  become  quiet 
the  shepherd  came  again  to  the 
prilgrims,  and  told  them  that  this 
was  the  favorite  shrine  of  the 
shepherds  of  the  whole  south 
•country. 

"They  come  from  all  parts  to  the 
Fountain  of  David/'   he  said. 

When  he  had  thus  spoken,  an- 
other shepherd  came  down  from 
the  south  fields  into  the  valley.  He 
stopped  on  the  green  slope  as  if  in 
deep  meditation. 

"That,"  said  the  Hebrew,  "is  an 
Arab  with  his  flock.  He  is  waiting 
for  my  sheep  to  rest  a  little  season, 
after  which  he  will  come  with  his 
flock  to  the  still  waters.  He  is  my 
friend  and  we  meet  here  nearly 
every  week.  He  lives  eastward 
down  in  the  plain,  not  far  from  old 
Hazezon-tamar.  When  I  go  out 
toward  Bethlehem  he  leads  his  flock 

JFiventy-six  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

out  through  yonder  ravine  toward 
the  valley  of  the  Dead  Sea." 

As  the  shepherd  went  over  to 
greet  the  Arab,  the  traveler  pointed 
to  the  eastern  slope  of  the  vale  to 
show  the  tourist  the  mouth  of  a 
ravine  which  seemed  to  form  a  nat- 
ural gateway  out  into  the  blue  hills 
beyond. 

Soon  the  Hebrew  paid  obeisance 
to  the  pilgrims,  called  his  flock, 
waved  a  farewell  to  his  shepherd 
friend,  and  started  out  over  the 
hills  by  a  time-worn  sheep-trail 
leading  to  Bethlehem. 

"Good-by,  David,"  the  tourist 
cried  out,  as  the  shepherd  and  his 
flock  disappeared  over  the  brow  of 
the  hill. 

The  Arab's  flock  came  down  to 
the  pool  and  rested  for  a  little  time 
in  the  soft  grass,  and  then  he,  like 
his    friend,    led    them    away    across 

—  Twenty-. 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

the  valley,  disappearing  in  the 
mouth  of  the  ravine. 

"I  am  beginning  to  discover  what 
David  really  left,"  said  the  tourist, 
*'and  trinkets  and  relics  are  no 
longer  worth  while.  A  new  and 
ever-living  truth  is  mine." 

"Yes,"  replied  his  companion, 
''here  is  something  that  one  may 
keep  forever.  I  love  this  fountain 
and  its  wonder-tale  of  the  beautiful. 
The  sweet  voice  that  stilled  the  tem- 
pest in  the  heart  of  Saul  is  silent  in 
the  tomb  on  Mount  Zion;  the  har- 
mony of  the  Psalmist's  harp-strings 
is  hushed  for  all  time;  the  king's 
scepter  and  the  warrior's  spear  are 
buried  with  the  ruins  of  a  kingdom 
long  since  decayed;  but  the  strain 
of  the  twenty-third  Psalm  runs  like 
a  stream  of  silver  through  the  sor- 
rowing centuries,  and  it  is  still  sing- 
ing its  song  of  blessed  assurance  to 

Tvjenty-eight  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

an  ever-increasing  multitude  of  be- 
lieving  listeners." 

The  harp-strings  are  rusted  and  broken, 
The  kingdom  has  gone  to  decay; 

The  harpist-king  sleeps  on  Mount  Zion 
Not  far  from  the  ancient  gateway; 

But  the  tender  Psalm  of  the  shepherd 
Sings  on  through  the  wearisome  years — 

The  shepherd  may  sleep,  but  his  message 
Still  lives  to  dispel  mortal  fears. 


—  Twenty-nine 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 


IV 

A  PERSONAL    POEM 

FTER  the  shepherds  had 
gone  and  all  was  quiet  in 
the  valley  the  traveler  took 
his  note-book  and  wrote 
the  Psalm  in  full.  I  shall  set  it 
down  here  just  as  I  have  it  in  his 
notes  before  me.  A  thousand  times 
I  had  repeated  the  familiar  song  of 
the  young  shepherd  singer,  but  the 
intense  personality  of  it  had  never 
occurred  to  me  until  I  saw  it  written 
thus: 

"The  Lord  is  my  shepherd ; 

/  shall  not  want. 

He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures: 

He  leadeth  me  beside  the  still  waters. 

He  restoreth  m.y  soul : 

Thirhj  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

He  leadeth  me  in  the  paths  of  righteousness  for 

his  name's  sake. 
Yea,   though  /  walk  through   the  valley   of   the 

shadow  of  death, 
/  will  fear  no  evil  : 
For  thou  art  with  me; 
Thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they  comfort  me. 
Thou  preparest  a  table  before  me 
In  the  presence  of  mine  enemies : 
Thou  anointest  my  head  with  oil ; 
My  cup  runneth  over.  ' 

Surely  goodness  and  mercy  shall  follow  me 
All  the  days  of  my  life : 
And  /  will  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord   for 

ever." 

When  he  had  finished  the  writing 
he  gave  it  to  the  tourist,  who  read 
it  aloud. 

''I  thought  I  knew  the  twenty- 
third  Psahii,"  he  said,  ''but  I  never 
really  read  it  until  now.  It  makes 
me  homesick  for  God." 

"That  is  the  charm  of  it,"  said 
the  traveler.  "It  makes  one  long 
for  God,  and,  once  he  has  been 
found,  the  poem  becomes  the  most 
satisfying   song   of   personal    assur- 

—  Thirty-one- 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

ance  in  all  literature.  In  it  we  hear 
the  singer  singing  of  himself  and 
God  as  if  nobody  else  lived  in  the 
whole  world.  Yet  the  reader  who 
catches  the  Psalmist's  spirit  soon 
discovers  his  altruistic  egotism,  par- 
adoxical as  that  may  seem.  Every- 
body's God  is  nobody's  God.  He 
must  become  personal.  This  the 
Psalm  makes  him  in  the  highest  pos- 
sible sense.  David  begins  with  the 
Lord  as  his  shepherd,  and  before 
he  ends  his  short  song,  the  Lord 
becomes  everything.  So  the  Lord 
becomes  everything  to  everybody 
that  grasps  and  holds  the  spirit  of 
the  twxnty-third   Psalm." 

The  tourist  looked  out  upon  the 
silent  solitude  about  him.  The 
spring  day  was  surcharged  with  the 
very   atmosphere   of   imagination. 

"David  must  have  been  lonely 
out  in  these  hills,"  he  remarked. 

Thirty-two  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

''Yes,  and  it  is  when  man  is  iso- 
lated from  his  fellow-creatures  and 
all  alone  with  God  that  the  outstand- 
ing longings  of  his  soul  find  expres-^ 
sion  in  some  inspiring  poem  or 
song,"  said  the  traveler.  'Thus 
Gray  wrote  The  Elegy';  Tennyson, 
'Crossing  the  Bar';  Bryant,  Thana- 
topsis';  Omar,  The  Rubaiyat'; 
David,    the   twenty-third    Psalm." 

"I  believe  I  could  write  a  poem 
here  myself,"  the  tourist  said  dream- 
ily. 

"No  doubt,"  replied  his  com- 
panion, "for  this  is  the  Toets'  Cor- 
ner' in  the  Abbey  of  Creation.  Here, 
the  most  heart-searching  poem  of 
the  ages  was  written." 

Without  attempting  exact  quota- 
tion, the  writer  will  give  the  trav- 
eler's interpretation  of  the  Psalm 
without  reference  to  local  coloring. 

It  is  a  song  of  faith — 'The  Lord 

3  —  Thirty-three 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

is  my  shepherd;'*  of  assurance — ''I 
shall  not  want;"  of  contentment — 
*'He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green 
pastures;"  of  peace — ''He  leadeth  me 
beside  the  still  waters;"  of  life — 
"He  restoreth  my  soul;"  of  divine 
guidance — "He  leadeth  me  in  the 
paths  of  righteousness  for  his 
name's  sake;"  of  confidence — "Yea, 
though  I  walk  through  the  val- 
ley of  the  shadow  of  death;"  of 
courage — "I  will  fear  no  evil;"  of 
companionship — "for  thou  art  with 
me;"  of  comfort — "Thy  rod  and  thy 
staff  they  comfort  me;"  of  provi- 
dence— "Thou  preparest  a  table  be- 
fore me  in  the  presence  of  mine 
enemies;"  of  favor — "Thou  anoint- 
est  my  head  with  oil;"  of  happiness 
— "My  cup  runneth  over;"  of  bless- 
ing— "Surely  goodness  and  mercy 
shall  follow  me  all  the  days  of  my 
life;"    of   immortality — "and   I    will 

Thirty-four  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  for 
ever." 

The  tourist  read  again  the  seven- 
teen brief  lines,  emphasizing,  as  he 
read,  the  words  underscored  in  the 
traveler's  notes.* 

"To  sing  of  so  many  themes  in 
so  short  a  song  is  almost  too  won- 
derful," he  said.  "Faith,  assurance, 
contentment,  peace,  life,  divine  guid- 
ance, confidence,  courage,  divine 
companionship,  comfort,  providence, 
divine  favor,  happiness,  blessing, 
immortality — it   is    too    wonderful!" 

''Seventeen  lines  singing  of  sixteen 
themes,  each  a  gift  of  Jehovah,  and 
a  blessing  to  the  poet  who  mentions 
himself  in  seventeen  personal  pro- 
nouns in  the  little  song.  It  is  won- 
derful!" 

"One  does  not  have  to  come  to 
Palestine   to  grasp   the  meaning  of 

*  See  Frontispiece, 

—  Thirty-five 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

the  twenty-third  Psalm,"  ejaculated 
the  tourist. 

''Not  necessarily,"  answered  his 
companion.  "The  Psalm  was  born 
here,  and  is,  therefore,  most  beauti- 
ful in  its  Holy  Land  setting,  but  the 
theme  is  universal.  That  is  why 
the  whole  world  loves  it  and  sings 
it.  I  have  seen  it  woven  in  silken 
scrolls  on  the  walls  in  the  homes 
of  old  Japan;  I  have  heard  it  mur- 
mured by  the  mourners  about  the 
ghats  along  the  Ganges;  the  coolies 
of  Kowloon  have  sung  it;  it  has 
been  droned  by  the  Druids,  voiced 
in  the  night  songs  of  Viking  and 
Norman,  and  intoned  in  the  litanies 
of  the  Latins;  I  have  read  it  in 
Arabic  and  heard  it  hummed  by  the 
donkey  boys  among  the  tombs  of 
upper  Egypt;  temple  and  synagogue, 
cathedral  and  abbey,  church  and 
chapel  have  echoed  this  anthem  of 

Thirty-six  — 


I 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

hope  and  calm  assurance  every  day 
since  it  first  went  to  the  winds;  it 
is  carved  on  ten  thousand  granite 
shafts  and  marble  slabs  in  'God's 
Acre'  the  world  around;  it  is  the 
bright  Alcyone  in  the  cloudy  sky  of 
human  hope — it  is  beautiful  every- 
where, but  I  repeat  that  it  is  more 
beautiful  in  Palestine  than  else- 
where in  the  world." 

"How  could  it  be  more  beauti- 
ful?" asked  the  tourist.  ''To  me  it 
now  shines  in  such  new  and  infinite 
splendor  that  I  see  no  room  to  beau- 
tify it  more." 

The  departure  of  the  shepherds 
and  the  slanting  rays  of  the  red 
sun  reminded  the  pilgrims  that  they 
must  be  going  if  they  would  reach 
the  city  of   David  before  nightfall. 

*'We  must  walk  across  the  valley 
for  a  glimpse  at  yonder  ravine  and 
then  hurry  on  to  Bethlehem,"   said 

—  Thirty-seven 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

the  traveler.  ''You  know  we  are  to 
be  sunset  guests  in  the  house  of  my 
old  friend,  Sheik  Abdul  Suliman. 
You  will  like  him  because  he  is  one 
of  a  very  few,  aristocratic  natives 
preserving,  in  the  entertainment  of 
guests,  all  of  the  ancient  dignity 
and  beauty  of  Orientalism.  We 
shall  be  favored  princes  in  the  house 
of  a  patriarch  to-night." 

In  the  same  little  town  that  the  Psalmist  loved 
well, 
We  shall  rest  at  the  close  of  the  day: 
We  shall  hear  an   old  tale  that  our  host  loves 
to  tell, 
*Tis  a  tale  that  drives  doubting  away. 

In  the  same  little  town  where  the  shepherds,  one 
night, 
Were  lured  on  to  the  Lord  by  a  song, 
We  shall  hear  an  old  song  in  a  new  and  true 
light. 
With  a  strain  that  speeds  mercy  along. 

In  the  same  little  town  where  the  carpenter's  son 
Was  a  guest  to  the  beasts  in  the  hay, 

We  shall  feast  in  a  palace  when  this  day  is  done, 
And  find  cheer  that  v/ill  brighten  our  way. 

Thirty-eight  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE 
SHADOW 

EAVING  the  pool  of  "still 
waters,"  the  pilgrims 
strolled  in  meditative 
mood  through  the  ''green 
pastures"  along  the  pathway  of  the 
Arab  shepherd  and  his  flock.  Many 
paths  led  eastward  from  the  Foun- 
tain of  David,  but  the  traveler  had 
observed  the  one  taken  by  the  Arab. 
This  trail  they  followed  until  they 
came  to  an  elevated  point  about  a 
hundred  yards  from  the  gateway  of 
the  gorge.  Then  they  turned  about 
and  gazed  eagerly  over  the  lovely 
vista,  the  ancient  try  sting-place  of  the 

—  Thirty-nine 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

shepherd-poet  and  his  all-sufficient 
Jehovah. 

"The  native  lovers  of  Hebrew  leg- 
end and  folklore  tell  us  that  David 
often  stood  here  and  watched  his 
flocks/'  said  the  traveler.  "You  ob- 
serve that  from  this  knoll  we  have 
a  commanding  view  of  the  whole 
valley." 

"Yes/'  answered  the  tourist; 
"even  this  perspective  alone  makes 
the  'Shepherd  Psalm'  shine  with 
new  luster." 

"It  is  not  unthinkable/'  observed 
the  traveler,  "that  this  was  David's 
inspiration  point  for  the  three  open- 
ing verses  of  the  Psalm.  From  this 
point,  too,  he  would  take  his  last 
look  upon  the  fair  fields  before  lead- 
ing his  flocks  into  the  'gloomy  ra- 
vine,' translated  'the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death'  in  our  common 
English  versions  of  the  Bible.     We 

Forty  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

have  witnessed  a  literal  reproduc- 
tion of  the  very  scenes  that  caused 
him  to  write  of  his  Lord  as  a  shep- 
herd. What  could  be  more  natural 
than  that  David  should,  in  his  de- 
votional dreams,  exchange  places 
with  his  sheep  beside  the  'still  wa- 
ters' and  in  the  ^green  pastures' 
which  he  had  found  for  them,  and 
then  look  to  God  as  his  shepherd 
who  provided  for  him  more,  infi- 
nitely more,  than  a  human  shepherd 
could  provide  for  his  sheep?" 

"Look  at  all  those  paths  leading 
out  from  the  pool,"  said  the  tourist. 
"They  go  in  every  direction.  How 
do  you  suppose  that  Jewish  shep- 
herd knew  which  one  led  to  Bethle- 
hem?" 

"These  trails  are  as  familiar  to  the 
shepherds  of  Judea  as  the  stars  in 
heaven  to  the  astronomer,"  replied 
the  traveler.     "And  it  is  just  here 

—  Forty-one 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

that  the  Psalm  changes  the  Lord 
from  shepherd  to  guide.  David 
looked  upon  this  many-trailed  area, 
and  saw  in  it  all  a  figure  of  the 
divergent  paths  of  life.  He  guides 
his  sheep  in  'paths  of  right/  and 
this  interprets  for  him  the  larger 
fact  that  God,  his  guide,  leads  him 
in  'the  right  paths  for  his  name's 
sake/  '' 

There  are  so  many  paths  that  lead  outward 
O'er  the  hills  to  the  great  otherwhere, 

That  I  know  not  which  way  may  lead  homeward, 
Though  my  loved  ones  are  waiting  me  there. 

But  the  Lord,  who  in  tenderness  keeps  me 
In  green  vales  where  the  still  waters  flow, 

With  his  strong  hand  will  lead  me  on  safely 
In  the  right  paths  wherever  I  go. 

"Listen !"  said  the  tourist.  "What 
is  that  unearthly  cry  I  hear?  It 
comes  from  the  shadows  in  yonder 
ravine." 

"That  is  the  shepherd's  cry  of 
warning/'     the     traveler     answered. 

Forty-two  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

"The  Arab  is  conscious  of  danger, 
and  is  calling  his  flock  to  keep  close 
to  him  in  the  gathering  gloom  of  the 
canyon.  The  reverberations  between 
the  rugged  walls  give  his  voice  that 
heart-smiting  wail.  I  have  often 
heard  the  cry  in  former  years  as  I 
followed  the  shepherds  into  this  ra- 
vine, and  even  on  down  into  the 
dark  lower  valley  that  leads  to  the 
plain  of  old  Engedi.  The  passing 
of  the  shepherds  through  this  val- 
ley gave  David  the  inspiration  for 
the  verse  that  immortalized  the 
whole  Psalm: 

"'Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death, 
I  will  fear  no  evil: 
For  thou  art  with  me: 
Thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they  comfort  me.' 

'The  way  is  dark  and  lonely,  and 
the  shepherd  keeps  close  to  his  sheep 
and  guides   them  over   the   perilous 

—  Forty-three 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

places:  should  they  fall,  he  will  pull 
them  up  with  his  staff:  should  wild 
animals  threaten,  he  will  protect 
them  with  his  rod.  What  the  shep- 
herd does  for  his  sheep,  God  will 
do  for  David  in  the  dangerous  val- 
ley, if  perchance  he  should  walk 
through   it." 

"This,  then,  is  'the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death'!''  exclaimed  the 
tourist. 

"Yes,"  replied  his  companion. 
"This  is  the  Valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death' — the  valley  across  which 
death  casts  its  alarming  shadow. 
The  shadow  only  indicates  the  prox- 
imity of  death;  the  substance  is  felt 
only  by  him  who  has  no  divine 
Shepherd,  no  comforting  staff,  no 
protecting  rod,  once  he  enters  this 
ravine  of  gloom — and  it  is  a  way 
that  all  men  must  -^sooner  or  later 
pass." 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

The  pilgrims  stood  gazing  silent- 
ly into  the  shadows  of  the  gloomy 
ravine,  listening  to  the  shepherd's 
call  as  it  grew  fainter  and  fainter 
in  the  distance.  One  last  faint  shout 
of  triumph,  and  the  traveler  knew 
that  he  had  reached  a  place  of  safe- 
ty with  his  flock. 

"He  is  out  of  the  valley  and  safe 
on  the  home  path,*'  he  said  to  the 
tourist. 

Safe  on  the  home  trail, 
Safe  on  the  long  trail, 
Safe  on  the   trail   of   truth. 

Then,  with  a  voice  clear  as  a  bell 
and  resonant  with  pathos,  the  trav- 
eler sang  an  old,  old  song  that 
echoed  and  re-echoed  down  the  deep 
ravine.  The  ancient  lyric  of  faith 
seemed  so  appropriate  in  the  hills 
of  fair  Judea  that  late  afternoon, 
that  the  reader's  heart  will  be  re- 
freshed to  read  it  here: 

—  Forty-five 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

"We  are  going  down  the  valley  one  by  one, 
With  our  faces  toward  the  setting  of  the  sun; 
Down   the  valley  where  the   mournful   cypress 

grows. 
Where  the  stream  of  death  in  silence  onward 

flows. 

"We  are  going  down  the  valley  one  by  one, 
When  the  labors  of  the  weary  day  are  done; 
One  by  one  the  cares  of  life  forever  past, 
We  shall  stand  upon  the  river  brink  at  last. 

"We  are  going  down  the  valley  one  by  one. 
Human  comrade  you  or  I  will  there  have  none; 
But  a  tender  hand  will  guide  us  lest  we  fall, 
Christ  is  going  down  the  valley  with  us  all." 

"God  grant  me  a  faith  that  will 
not  shrink  when  I  pass  through  my 
valley  of  the  deep  shadow,"  fervent- 
ly said  the  tourist,  as  the  two  friends 
left  the  Fountain  of  David  and 
walked  with  quickened  step  toward 
the  city  of  Bethlehem. 

The  shadows  of  the  hills  were 
thrown  far  across  the  open  spaces, 
enshrouding  the  deep  valleys  with 
gloom.     The  last   rays   of   the   sun 

Forty-six  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

were  kissing  the  tall  spires  and  min- 
arets of  the  Holy  City.  Bethlehem 
was  becoming  an  indistinct  mass  in 
the  gloom.  The  tide  of  darkness 
went  creeping  along  the  sheep- 
paths,  driving  the  shepherds  with 
their  flocks  to  the  sheepfold,  and  the 
men  and  women  from  their  work  in 
the  fields.  The  phantom  twilight 
brooded  momentarily  over  the  pil- 
grims as  they  passed  along  the  im- 
posing walls  of  the  Church  of  the 
Nativity.  They  entered  the  ancient 
building  for  a  moment  of  prayer  at 
the  Altar  of  the  Manger  Cradle, 
purchased  a  pearl  rosary  from  the 
importunate  priest  at  the  outer  door, 
and  then  hurried  avv^ay  through  the 
narrow  streets  to  a  large  house  in 
the  outskirts  of  the  city.  They 
paused  for  a  breath  at  the  gateway 
of  the  home  of  Sheik  Abdul  Suli- 
man. 

—  Forty-seven 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

"We  have  had  a  weary  day,"  said 
the  traveler.  But  my  old  friend 
Abdul  will  give  us  food  and  rest  and 
cheer  before  we  resume  our  journey 
to  the  city  of  the  Great  King.  I 
promised  him  that  you  would  come 
with  me  to  his  house  and  he  has  been 
expecting  us  ever  since  the  sun 
dropped  behind  yonder  hills." 

"Perhaps  we  should  now  proceed 
to  Jerusalem  without  accepting  your 
friend's  hospitality,  since  it  has 
grown  so  late,"  rejoined  the  tourist. 

*That  would  be  unpardonable," 
replied  his  companion.  ''And  Abdul 
will  add  another  chapter  to  our 
study  of  the  twenty- third  Psalm 
that  will  make  our  night  walk  to 
Jerusalem  a  new  picture  in  our 
Book  of  Life.  The  stars  will  be 
brighter  than  ever  above  the  old 
Bethlehem  road  to-night.  The  high- 
way itself  will  shine  anew." 

Forty-eight  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

"Behold,  where  night  clutches  the  cup  of  heaven 
And  quaffs  the  beauty  of  the  world  away ! 
Lo!  his  first  draught  is  all  of  dazzling  day; 
The  next  he  fills  with  the  red  wine  of  even 
And  drinks;  then  of  the  twilight's  amber,  seven 
Deep  liquid  hues,  seven  times,  superb  in  ray. 
He  fills — and  drinks ;  the  last,  a  m.ead  pale-gray 
Leaves   the  black  beaker  gemmed   with   starry 
levin. 

"Even  so  does  Time  quaff  our  mortality ! 

First,  of  the  effervescing  blood  and  blush 
Of  virgin  years,  then  of  maturity 

The  deeper  glow,  then  of  the  pallid  hush 
Where  only  the  eyes  still  glitter,  till  even  they— 
After  a  pause — melt  in  immenser  day." 


—  Forty-nine 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 


VI 

IN  THE  HOUSE  OF 
HOSPITALITY 

HE  candlelights  were 
gleaming  through  the  win- 
dows as  the  two  pilgrims 
passed  the  gateway  and 
approached  the  house.  Their  host 
was  expectant  and  ready,  for  no 
sooner  were  their  footfalls  heard  on 
the  gravel  walk  than  the  door  was 
opened  and  Sheik  Abdul  Suliman 
himself  came  out  beneath  the  open 
sky  to  meet  them. 

*'Look  up  at  the  stars,"  he  said. 
"You  may  not  count  them,  but  they 
show  you  the  number  of  times  I  bid 
you    welcome,    and    the    number    of 

Fifty  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

years    I    hope    our    friendship    may 
endure." 

Taking  hold  of  the  corners  of 
his  broad  mantle  with  either  hand, 
he  stepped  between  his  guests,  and, 
throwing  it  over  their  shoulders,  he 
put  his  arms  about  them  and  led 
them  into  the  house. 

The  servants  removed  the  boots 
of  the  guests,  bathed  their  feet  and 
fastened  soft  sandals  upon  them. 
Then  they  were  shown  into  a  spa- 
cious living-room,  which  was  fur- 
nished and  decorated  with  carved 
woods,  Oriental  rugs  and  tapestries, 
and  surcharged  with  the  aroma  of 
myrrh  and  frankincense.  Wide, 
cushioned  seats,  or  lounges,  ran  the 
full  length  of  the  room  on  two  sides. 

Abdul,  the  host,  seated  himself 
gracefully  in  the  middle  of  one  of 
the  lounges,  with  his  feet  curled  up 
beneath  him.     He  invited  his  guests 

i  — Fifty-one 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

to  sit  with  him,  one  on  either  side, 
among  the  soft  cushions. 

"Did  you  come  directly  from  the 
Holy  City?"  he  asked. 

"No,  I  have  taken  my  friend  to 
visit  the  Fountain  of  David,"  re- 
plied the  traveler. 

"Then  you  are  weary  and  must 
have  something  to  refresh  you  be- 
fore the  evening  meal,"  said  the 
host. 

He  called  a  servant  to  bring  a 
table  and  another  to  bring  Turkish 
coffee.  The  table  was  brought,  and 
three  small  cups  were  placed  by  the 
time  the  coffee  was  ready  to  serve. 
One  of  the  servants  took  hold  of 
the  brazen  urn  as  if  to  pour  the 
coffee,  when  Abdul,  the  host,  mo- 
tioned him  away  and  took  hold  of 
the  long,  black  handle  himself.  He 
filled  the  guests'  cups  to  the  brim 
and  then  poured  into  his  own.  Again 

Fifty-two  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

he  began  pouring  into  the  guest- 
cups  until  the  coffee  was  running 
over  into  the  saucers  and  upon  the 
table. 

"My  cup  is  running  over,"  cried 
the  tourist. 

"That  is  as  I  would  have  thy  cup 
of  happiness  whilst  thou  art  a  guest 
in  my  house,"  said  Abdul. 

"We  are  honored  more  than  we 
deserve  in  being  your  guests  and  in 
having  you  fill  our  cups  with  your 
own  hand,"  rejoined  the  traveler, 
bowing  his  gratitude. 

"I  would  that  thou  couldst  ever 
be  with  me  and  that  all  I  have 
could  ever  be  thine,"  graciously 
said  the  host,  as  he  reached  for  a 
golden-chased  cruse  which  one  of 
the  servants  had  brought.  As  he 
removed  the  cover  the  rich  perfume 
of  oil  of  spikenard  floated  out  to 
mingle  with  the  aroma  of  myrrh  and 

—  Fifty-three 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

frankincense  already  permeating  the 
room. 

"You  recognize  this?"  said  Abdul, 
addressing  the  traveler,  as  he  grace- 
fully waved  the  cruse  to  and  fro  in 
front  of  him. 

*'Yes,"  answered  the  traveler.  "It 
is  an  honor  you  have  bestowed  upon 
me  in  the  years  gone  by.  I  am  ex- 
tremely happy  if  my  old  friend  Ab- 
dul finds  me  still  worthy  to  receive 
the  anointing  oil  of  favor  in  his 
hospitable  abiding-place.  I  am  un- 
worthy of  such  goodness  at  his 
hands." 

"My  long-time  friend  is  not  un- 
worthy'' said  Abdul.  "But  if  such 
an  impossible  thing  could  be,  still  I 
should  love  him  and  show  mercy  to 
him  in  his  unworthiness.  I  know 
thy  heart,  and  I  merely  show  thee 
goodness  because  thou  art  worthy 
indeed." 

Fifty-four  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

* 'Goodness  and  mercy  attend  all 
who  come  into  the  house  of  my 
lord,  Abdul,"  replied  the  traveler. 

The  tourist  was  so  absorbed  in 
the  conversation  between  his  friend 
and  the  host  that  he  sat  as  one  en- 
tranced. The  twenty-third  Psalm 
was  growing  in  his  heart  as  day  in- 
creases with  the  rising  sun. 

Abdul  lifted  the  cruse  and 
anointed  the  head  of  the  traveler, 
saying:  ''My  blessing  upon  thee,  my 
ancient  friend." 

Then  lifting  the  cruse  above  the 
head  of  the  tourist,  he  poured  out 
the  remainder  of  the  scented  spike- 
nard, but,  before  he  could  add  his 
word  of  blessing,  the  tourist  was 
murmuring  as  if  by  instinct: 

"Thou  anointest  my  head  with  oil; 
My  cup  runneth  over," 

"Let  us  drink  our  coffee  now,'* 
said  the  host.     "To  whom  shall  we 

—  Ft  ftp- five 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

drink?  It  must  be  to  some  absent 
one." 

'To  David,"  suggested  the  tour- 
ist. 

"Hast  thou  a  name  to  propose?" 
asked  Abdul,  addressing  the  trav- 
eler. 

"David,  by  all  means,"  he  replied. 

"Then  I  drink  to  David,  whose 
song  led  me  to  Bethlehem  and  to 
Sheik  Abdul  Suliman's  house  to- 
night," said  the  tourist. 

"And  I  drink  to  David,  whose 
song  has  been  glorified  in  my 
friend's  house  to-night,"  said  the 
traveler. 

"And  I  drink  to  David,  whose 
song  has  brought  me  companion- 
ship in  my  pilgrim  friends  to- 
night," said  Abdul.  "And  may  that 
song  increase  our  hope  of  immortal 
companionship,  that  we  may  'dwell 
in  the  house  of  the  Lord  for  ever' !  " 

Fifty-six  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

A  servant  announced  dinner,  and 
the  host  led  the  way  into  the  hall 
of  the  feast.  And  it  was  indeed  a 
feast  for  the  pilgrims  at  the  close 
of  their  weary  day.  Savory  meats, 
delicacies  of  all  kinds,  fruits  and 
Carmel  wine  were  spread  upon  the 
table. 

'Thou  preparest  a  table  before 
me,"  said  the  tourist,  earnestly. 

"And  in  the  presence  of  enemies," 
added  the  traveler. 

"But  that  I  do  not  understand," 
replied  his  companion. 

"You  shall  see  what  Abdul  says 
when  we  leave  for  the  Holy  City 
to-night,"   remarked  the   traveler. 

Abdul  was  a  royal  host  who  re- 
galed his  guests  in  true  Oriental 
fashion.  He  was  a  good  story- 
teller— and  a  good  listener,  and 
the  hour  of  feasting  was  all  too 
short. 

—  Fifty-seven 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

Four  times  the  servant  had  turned 
the  hour-glass  since  the  beginning 
of  the  Bethlehem  day,  and  the  sand 
had  run  a  full  half  on  another  turn. 
It  was  half -past  ten,  and  the  guests 
arose  to  depart. 

"Two  of  my  servants  will  follow 
my  guests  to  Rachel's  Tomb  on  the 
road  to  Jerusalem,"  said  Abdul. 
"The  natives  of  Palestine  look  upon 
foreigners  as  'infidels/  Several  have 
been  about  the  house  to-night,  and 
they  will  likely  follow  as  my  guests 
leave.  Any  who  are  not  of  my  own 
race  are  considered  enemies,  but 
they  will  know  my  love  for  my 
guests  if  my  servants  follow  them 
on  their  journey.  Then  they  will 
not  molest  my  friends  on  their  night 
walk  to  the  Holy  City." 

"Farewell,  Abdul.  May  the  God 
of  David  keep  you  until  we  meet 
again,"  said  the  traveler. 

Fifty-eight  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

"Good-by,  Abdul.  I  wish  I 
could  live  forever  in  such  a  house 
as  yours,"  said  the  tourist. 

**May  goodness  and  mercy  follow 
my  friends  in  every  walk  of  life," 
were  Abdul's  last  words  to  his  de- 
parting guests. 

**He  did  prepare  a  feast  in  the 
presence  of  enemies,"  said  the  tour- 
ist, as  they  passed  through  the  gate- 
way and  moved  slowly  along  the 
unlighted  streets  of  the  city  in  the 
direction  of  the  open  space  on  the 
north,  whence  they  should  find  the 
old  roadway  to  Jerusalem. 

**Goodness  and  mercy  still  follow 
us,"  said  the  traveler,  as  he  looked 
back  when  Rachel's  Tomb  had  been 
reached.  The  servants  of  Abdul 
were  only  a  few  yards  behind  them. 

At  the  same  olive  tree  beneath 
whose  shadow  they  had  rested  in 
the    morning,    the    pilgrims    stopped 

—  Tifty-nine 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

and  waited  for  the  servants  of  Ab- 
dul to  overtake  them.  The  traveler 
dismissed  them  with  ''a  gift,"  and 
bade  them  Godspeed  as  they  turned 
again  to  the  house  of  their  master. 

■"Well,  this  is  the  end  of  a  perfect  day, 
Near  the  end  of  a  journey,  too; 
But  it  leaves  a  thought  that  is  big  and  strong, 
With  a  wish  that  is  kind  and  true. 

"^'For  mem'ry  has  painted  this  perfect  day 
With  colors  that  never  fade, 
And  we  find,  at  the  end  of  a  perfect  day, 
The  soul  of  a  friend  we've  made." 


.Sixty  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 


VII 

THE    TRAIL    OF    IMMOR- 
TALITY 

'Tis  midnight's  holy  hour,  and  silence  now  is 

brooding 
Like  a  gentle  spirit  o'er  the  still  and  pulseless 
world." 

NLY  one  who  has  seen  the 
stars  on  a  clear  night  in 
Palestine  could  appreciate 
the  beauty  of  the  hour 
that  had  come  upon  tourist  and 
traveler  as  they  stood  again  at  the 
solitary  tomb  of  Rachel.  Not  a 
cloud  could  be  seen  in  the  sky,  and 
new  constellations  and  galaxies 
seemed  to  adorn  the  heavens,  shin- 
ing with  a  brilliancy  that  can  only 
be  seen  when  the  soul  is  en  rapport 

—  Sixty-one 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

with  some  new  ideal  of  truth.  An 
eerie  stillness  pervaded  the  atmos- 
phere, and  the  old  trail  of  the  cen- 
turies loomed  like  a  long  line  of 
lurid  light  amid  the  shadows  on  the 
hills  ahead;  the  trees,  silhouetted 
against  the  blue,  starlit  sky,  were  as 
specters  moving  on  the  landscape. 
Bethlehem  was  a  dream-city  of 
silence  in  the  darkness  behind 
them;  and  Jerusalem,  with  her 
rugged  walls,  was  fringed  with  a 
border  of  star-sheen  before  them. 
The  night  journey  was  a  fitting 
climax  to  the  day  at  the  Fountain 
of  David,  and  the  evening  in 
the  house  of  Sheik  Abdul  Suli- 
man. 

"It  has  been  a  beautiful  day," 
said  the  traveler. 

"Yes,  a  beautiful  day  and  a  won- 
derful night,"  replied  his  compan- 
ion.    "Every  star  in  yonder  sky  is 

Sixtv-two  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

a  Psalm  of  faith  and  hope  to  me 
now." 

"And  the  twenty-third  Psalm?" 
asked  the  traveler. 

"I  have  found  a  worthy  memento 
that  David  left,"  answered  the  tour- 
ist. "I  am  going  to  take  it  home 
with  me  and  fit  it  into  my  little 
house  of  life  as  a  window  facing 
the  sunrise.  Through  it,  I  shall 
see  God  as  David  saw  him,  and 
I  shall  look  often  upon  the  glow- 
ing trail  that  leads  from  my  window 
to  the  house  of  the  Lord,  where 
7ny  cup  shall  run  over,  where  good- 
ness and  mercy  shall  attend  me 
and  where  I  shall  dwell  for- 
ever.'* 

"I  am  happy  in  our  common  fel- 
lowship with  the  oldest  of  the 
world's  poems  and  poets,"  said  the 
traveler.  *'The  calm  assurance  and 
intense   devotion    of    this    matchless 

—  Sixty-three 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

poem  are  contagious  when  one  reads 
it  among  the  flowered  fields  and  un- 
derneath the  stars.  MilUons  have 
loved  it  and  found  comfort  and 
strength  in  it,  but  its  full  measure 
of  comfort  and  strength  is  found 
among  the  sheep-trails  that  lead  to 
the  Christmas  city  and  the  Fountain 
of  David." 

"And  to  the  house  of  Abdul," 
added  the  tourist. 

"That  is  another  charm  of  this 
little  flower  of  the  literature  of  an- 
tiquity," said  his  friend.  "It  is  at 
home  in  the  land  of  its  birth,  and 
here  in  Palestine  we  find  the  golden 
key  that  unlocks  its  doors  to  the 
whole  wide  world  in  all  generations. 
And  it  must  not  be  interpreted  by  a 
heart  that  merely  loves  literary  lore, 
but  by  a  longing  soul  that  believes 
and  loves  God.  It  was  written 
by  a  man  who  had  tried  God  in  the 

Sixty-four  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

conflicts  and  vicissitudes  of  life  and 
found  him  true  in  everything ;  it 
finds  interpretation  in  him  who  is 
willing  to  believe  that  everything  is 
possible  with  God.  It  makes  God 
and  life  and  hope  and  faith  intense 
personal  facts  to  man." 

"I  love  the  fourth  verse  best  of 
all,"  said  the  tourist. 

''That  is  the  popular  verse,"  an- 
swered the  traveler.  "But  I  love 
the  last  because  it  lies  beyond  'the 
valley  of  the  shadow  of  death.'  The 
faith  that  God  is  everything,  so 
devoutly  expressed  in  the  whole 
poem,  finds  consummation  in  the  con- 
fidence of  immortality  which  shines 
in  the  last  verse.  'I  will  dwell  in  the 
house  of  the  Lord  for  ever"  is  the 
reasonable  end  of  all  human  faith  in 
God.  No  heart  is  satisfied  with  any 
other  ultimate  conception  of  the  life 
of  trust." 

—  Sixty-five 


IN   PALESTINE  WITH 

"If  death  be  final,  what  is  life  with  all 
Its  lavish  promises,  its  thwarted  aims. 
Its  lost  ideals,  its  dishonored  claims, 
Its  uncompleted  growth?     A  prison  wall 
Whose  heartless  stones  but  echo  back  our  call; 
An  epitaph  recording  but  our  names ; 
A   puppet-stage,    where    joys    and   griefs   and 
shames 
Furnish  a  demon-jester's  carnival; 
A  plan  without  a  purpose  or  a  form ; 
A  roofless  temple,  an  unfinished  tale. 
And    men    like    madrepores    through    calm   and 
storm 
Toil  and  die  to  build  a  branch  of  fossil  frail. 
And  add  from  all  their  dreams,  thoughts,  acts, 

belief, 
A  few  more  inches  to  a  coral  reef." 

When  the  pilgrims  reached  the 
edge  of  the  Sheep  Market  above 
Lower  Gihon,  they  paused  to  look 
upon  the  shepherds  who  were  just 
wrapping  their  cloaks  about  them 
to  lie  down  among  their  flocks.  The 
bells  of  convent  and  monastery  were 
ringing  the  hour  of  midnight  in 
preparation  for  the  Lord's  Day, 
with  its  round  of  early  masses  and 

Siattp-tix  — 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

prayers.  The  frowning  battlements 
of  the  tower  of  David  stood  like 
night  sentinels  at  the  Jaffa  Gate 
They  approached  the  portal,  awak- 
ened the  Turkish  watchman,  a  friend 
of  the  traveler,  who  greeted  them 
sleepily,  shot  back  the  bolt  of  the 
needle's  eye  and  allowed  them  to 
pass  through.  They  went  to  the 
hotel  that  stood  just  within  the 
ancient  walls,  made  their  way  to 
their  room  by  the  light  of  a  flicker- 
ing candle,  and  were  soon  fast 
asleep. 

The  room  was  filled  with  the  red 
light  of  sunrise  when  the  traveler 
turned  in  his  narrow  bed.  The  tour- 
ist was  looking  out  at  the  east  win- 
dow upon  the  gilded  housetops  of 
the  Holy  City  and  watching  the 
flood  of  daylight  flow  along  the  nar- 
row streets.  He  saw  the  aimless 
multitudes  thronging  the  thorough- 

—  Sixty-seven 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

fares  as  sheep  having  no  shepherd. 
He  was  saying  softly  to  himself  in 
the  light  of  the  new  day: 

"The  Lord  is  my  shepherd; 
/  shall  not  want. 

Surely  goodness  and  mercy  shall  follow  me 

All  the  days  of  my  life : 

And  /  will  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  for 


Sixty-eight  ■ 


Date  Due 

^Ai.    ^■ 

, 

mmm>mmm» 

■*-' 

1 

'i 

*-^ 

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^^"■^Si 

^ 

' 

wmm 

OCru 

a 

.^UUl 

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1 

. 

(l) 

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